Moments
by skysedge
Summary: I have nothing to say because I really don’t have a right to stop him. Seeing him suffering so silently over and over is hurting me more than anything else I have ever witnessed. How can I say that to someone like this? CassianxJizabel oneshot


_**A/N **_This fic inspired by the song 'Hanging By A Moment' by Lifehouse and is dedicated to Savvi-Sin for introducing me to the band. (And because she's amazing. Roll on London 2010)

Note: 'The Seal of the Red Ram pt 2' is referenced in this. Just telling you in case people haven't read the early Cain books and think I'm making an event up.

_-x-_

_I'm falling even more in love with you__  
__Letting go of all I've held onto__  
__I'm standing here until you make me move__  
__I'm hanging by a moment here with you_

-x-

Moments like this make me wonder why I bothered freeing myself in the first place. When I joined Delilah, I thought this organisation could be a stepping stone to greater things or at least to a place where it didn't feel as if my heart was constantly being wrenched from my chest. Guess I didn't know what that felt like at all before. Not before I met him.

Well, that's a half-truth. When I first met him I honestly couldn't stand him. His smug smiles were just like those of every other person who knew my real age and I felt constantly patronised. He was an obstacle. I wanted power. I wanted to be _someone_ rather than an object of pity and mockery and he was the most obvious target for my bitterness. After all, everyone else hated him too. I don't think I'll ever be able to apologise enough for thinking like that to start with, especially since I have no idea how to voice an apology. The doctor has always been inscrutable; some days it's like talking to a brick wall. An intelligent wall who watches you with eyes as deep and as beautiful as the ocean but a wall nonetheless.

Right now, he looks more confused that anything and I can understand why. He has this routine, you see. Whenever he disobeys the Cardmaster – or whenever the bastard is angry or even bored – the doctor ends up in that awful room with that hideous chair and returns with bleeding lacerations covering his back. He tries to hide them but I can always tell. His face will be impassive but his walk will be slightly altered, his back a little less straight. Usually, he returns to his quarters for a moment after punishment and then leaves the building entirely. I don't know where he goes since this is usually where I realise how creepy it is following the kid around and force myself to go back to my own room.

Today, I broke the routine.

I don't know why I did it and I have no idea what I'm going to do now. I followed him after he left that damn torture chamber as usual and watched him wander into his room, grab a coat from a stand and then turn to leave again. He can't leave. Not this time. Not while I'm standing in the doorway. I might be small but he can't slip past me and unless he decides to physically make me move I'm not going anywhere.

I open my mouth to say something to break the awkward silence that's been smothering us for at least a full minute. I have nothing to say because I really don't have a right to stop him. All I know is that seeing him suffering so silently over and over is hurting me more than anything else I have ever witnessed and letting him be swallowed by the city streets each time frightens me. How can I say that to someone like this?

"Cassian?" He breaks the silence for me. "Is there something you need?"

"No." I lick my lips nervously. "But there's something _you_ need."

His expression remains unchanged and I feel as though his eyes are going to burn holes in me if I stay here any longer even though he's standing several metres away. His gaze is cold as always but burning with colour, like lilacs blooming in a snowy field.

"I know," he says casually. "I need those samples I asked you for this morning. I expect to have them by tomorrow afternoon at the latest."

He moves to leave but only manages one step before his eyes widen. I'm meant to step back when he approaches, not step forward.

"That's not it. You need treatment." I wave my hand vaguely. "Antiseptic, bandages. You _don't_ need to be walking around. That'll just tear the skin even more."

His eyes widen and I can see the mask slipping. The corners of his pale lips curve downwards and he pulls himself up as though trying to prove to me he can stand just fine. Liar. I heard the sharp breath as he stepped towards me before.

"You're not a doctor, Cassian," he says after a moment, voice sharp. "I don't need advice from someone like you."

I bite my lip and feel my hands balling themselves into fists. The doctor isn't always like a wall, sometimes he's more like a child than anything. A petulant child who thinks they've worked out how the world works and won't believe that someone can go against the grain. Before I know it, I'm talking to him in the way I know I shouldn't but always have to bite back.

"It's common sense, kid. If you don't do something about it now, they'll get infected and you won't be able to walk properly for days."

"Stop daydreaming and step aside," he says quietly. "What could you possibly understand?"

"Do you think you're the only person to have been thrashed?" I retort, realising that since I've already leapt over the line of disobedience I might as well keep running. "I understand. Trust me on this one. Let me...let me help you."

Surprisingly, he actually takes a step backwards. Jizabel Disraeli, Death, has visibly cringed from _me_. And all because I offered him help. Is it really such a strange concept to him? Has his father twisted him so much that he doesn't understand the idea at all? I wonder if anyone else has ever said those words to him. Judging by the fear etched into his expression, I guess I'm the first. I don't know whether to laugh and cry at the sheer hopelessness of it all. I'm not worthy of being the first one to offer kindness. The air is heavy with silence. I take another two steps forward, clenching my fists more tightly to stop the shaking in my fingers.

"Don't run away this time," I say quietly.

"Why not?"

This time, I'm the one who looks surprised. Frankly, I didn't entertain the possibility that he would even be mildly interested in why I'm being so persistent. I was expecting anger, dismissal, or sarcasm. This mix of confusion and fear is unnerving. I don't want to answer the question, not even to myself.

"Because it's not good for you," I say stupidly, part of me seriously regretting making this move and hoping he'll order me to leave. Today is not my lucky day.

"Why should you care about what's good for me?" he asks.

_Because someone has to. Because if I let you die, my chances of promotion are nil. Because the more effectively you can work, the better my prospects are._ These are the things I want to say. These are the things I want to _think_. Shame they're all lies. I lower my eyes towards the floor and bite my lip to stop myself from answering without thinking.

"Because I can't help it," I say.

I can feel him watching me, infuriatingly patient now. It's the truth. Well, a half-truth at least. I can't pinpoint the day I stopped seeing the doctor as an obstacle, although God knows I try.

Perhaps it was the day I first saw him tending his doves. For a moment, the heartless superior whom I was comfortable hating looked like a divine being, a creature made of porcelain and sunlight surrounded by soft white feathers. When he had turned to me, his eyes had been different. They were shining and vibrant, the eyes of a child discovering the warmth of a summer's day. His voice had been soft and musical and I couldn't believe I had ever seen those lips speaking words of destruction and decay.

I guess that was the day I first realised he had a kind soul. I couldn't admit that I found him beautiful.

During those confusing weeks with Merediana, I realised I wanted to protect that soul more than anything. I had watched as he stood motionless while staring down the barrel of a gun, feeling my own heart pounding in my chest. Before I knew it, we were on the floor and I had saved a person's life. I babbled some excuse and thankfully he never inquired about it later. I wouldn't have been able to find the words to explain the way my whole body had shaken at the idea of letting that bullet pierce his chest.

That was the day I was forced to realise that it wasn't all about promotion. I couldn't admit that I cared for him.

The first time I saw him being flogged I felt so angry I almost ran at the Cardmaster to tear the whip from his hands. Each drop of blood that fell to the marble floor reminded me of pain so sharp it had been all I could do to stay conscious. Every gash that bloomed red on his pale skin reminded me of the rough scars that marred my already imperfect body. That was painful, sure, but it didn't make me angry. It had been the look on the doctor's face. Blank. Calm. _Peaceful_. Why? I wanted to scream it. Why was he so unmoved? Why was I suffering more than he was?

This was when I realised he was broken. I couldn't admit that I wanted to fix him.

I no longer think of promotion. I don't give a damn about what happens to me. I used to think that having a body like mine was tragic but I would burn all of the research into my condition if it meant I could save him. I can't help caring about what's good for him, I didn't lie to him before. But the whole truth is that I can't stop caring about him, can't stop thinking about him, can't stop myself from imagining a day when I can see him smile and call him by his name.

I glance up to see him still watching me. While I have been silent, the fear has faded from his expression and the walls are back in place. He stands up straight and takes a step towards me, choosing to ignore everything I had just told him. I suppose it's inconvenient to him. Incomprehensible. I'm nothing but a tool. He catches my gaze with cold eyes and I know my own are revealing too much. After a moment, he walks towards the door, staring straight ahead of him decisively. For all outward appearances, he's strong and heartless, lacking even the tiniest shred of humanity. He's still beautiful to me. He's fragile and sensitive and more caring in his way than anyone else in this organisation. He's just a good actor, that's all. I close my eyes and hold back a hundred words I know I could never say.

I hadn't realised I was falling in love with him until I was in so deep I had no hope of pretending otherwise. I still can't admit that I know he can never know of my feelings. I still can't admit that if I was to tell him he would dismiss them as a lie.

He brushes past me and I don't open my eyes to look. So be it. If I'm not strong enough to stop him from destroying himself night by night then I deserve the pain. If this is all he will ever give me, I will cherish it as something sacred. I just wish I could believe his lie and pretend I am the only one in pain.

"You're right."

The soft click of the door shutting cuts through the air like a gunshot. I turn my head so fast I wrench a muscle in my neck before spinning around completely. The door can't be shut while I am on the inside. The doctor can't be walking towards me. But its shut and he's only a step away and I know I'm visibly shaking.

"They are painful if I don't treat them," he says quietly, relaxing his posture and eliciting a small noise of pain. "I never seem to notice until the morning."

I can't drag my eyes away from the soft amethyst orbs focussed so intently on me. He's beautiful and vulnerable and I can hear his voice trembling with anxiety. I don't look but I don't think I'm the only one shaking.

"Jizabel..." I murmur without thinking. His expression remains unchanged.

"I can't reach all of them by myself," he says. "There are medical supplies in the cupboard by the bed."

He raises his pale fingers and slips the coat from his shoulders. As he moves to replace the garment, I can see that the back of his white shirt is dyed red and is sticking to the skin beneath it. Without turning, he undoes the buttons with deft fingers and peels the material away from his wounds. I can't hear him gasp in pain over the grieved noise I don't mean to make. He turns to face me again.

"I thought you wanted to help me?" he asks before moving to sit on the edge of his narrow bed.

Instantly, I unfreeze and hurry to find anything I can that will help. I'm not a doctor and so not perfect at bandaging wounds but as I lay my hands on his skin I can feel rather than hear him sigh. I guess my lack of skill isn't what's important right now.

Stupidly, I find myself wishing I'll make a mistake and have to start again. I don't want to face the moment I finish with the bandages. Will he ask me the question I never really answered before? Will he dismiss me and pretend nothing happened? Or will he surprise me again? All of the possibilities are terrifying. I'd rather stay this way. I can be tender without being reprimanded, can feel satisfied that I am helping in a way I have never been allowed to before.

While this lasts, I can love him without guilt. While this lasts, it doesn't matter if I never speak the words. If he can even understand then he'll know. He'll know.

I've never experienced a moment like this before and I wonder if I'll ever experience one again. When I joined Delilah, I never thought this organisation could lead me to feel emotions I had believed were lost to me forever, could be a place where my heart would race and blossom with gentle warmth. Guess I didn't know what that felt like at all before. Not before I met him.

-x-

_I'm living for the only thing I know__  
__I'm running and not quite sure where to go__  
__And I don't know what I'm diving into__  
__Just hanging by a moment here with you_

_-x-_

_**A/N **_This was meant to be a drabble, point-of-view type of thing but turned into a full blown oneshot. I feel the need to revive the JizabelxCassian Invasion after viewing Cassian's page at , having to edit his info, add another picture and find out that I am one of only three people who have him as a favourite character. How sad. Cassian needs more love.

**Help us with the invasion! If you like this pairing, please write for it! **

And please leave a review to let me know your thoughts, lovelies. Thanks for reading.


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